Proposals
by Glisseo
Summary: When Ron proposes a simple mission to retrieve a report from Harry's house, he doesn't foresee that things will go badly wrong when he and Hermione discover something they shouldn't - and in doing so, throw off some plans of Harry's own.


Harry Potter's living room was a mess.

"Really, though," Ron tutted, shoving aside a heap of Quidditch magazines with his foot, "you'd think Ginny would keep him in line … this is worse than his bit of the dormitory …"

"Ron, yesterday I found a pair of your pants on the bookcase," said Hermione. "Unless you can see Harry's pants in this room, I don't think you have the right to judge him."

Feeling his ears burn red, Ron opted not to dignify that with an answer, and instead continued to inspect the room, this time refraining from comment. Apart from the mess, the rounded living room of the cottage hadn't changed much since he and Hermione had lived there; there were some new flowery curtains that were definitely Ginny's touch and a purple cardigan was slung over the back of the sofa, but the walls were the same, familiar pale blue and a photograph of Ron, Harry and Hermione at a post-match common room party still stood on the mantelpiece.

It was a nice place, but Ron had been ecstatic to leave for the large house he and Hermione had bought at some point during their engagement; Harry's cottage reminded him far too much of the Burrow, with its sloping ceilings and wooden beams and chaos. Ron and Hermione's house was airy, spacious, tranquil – were those his sister's _knickers?_

"No," he said to himself, frantically trying to look anywhere but at the pair of polka dot pants peeking out from behind the sofa, "no, no, no … no …"

"What? Oh - for heaven's sake Ron, they're only _knickers_, you've seen mine a hundred times –"

"More, actually," said Ron, still determinedly averting his eyes, "but that's not – that's my _sister_ – can we just get on with this? I think I'm going to be sick."

"This was your idea," Hermione reminded him, and she was right, as always, but now they were actually here, and faced with Ginny's underwear, Ron was desperately wishing it wasn't. It had seemed like a good idea at the time: he needed to make some adjustments to an arrest report, he thought that Harry had taken said report home with him, and Harry was currently unreachable, working on a case up in the Outer Hebrides. It seemed quite obvious to Ron that the solution was to break into Harry's house and find the report himself.

Once Hermione had learned of this plan, she had involved herself immediately, telling Ron (unfairly, in Ron's opinion) that she had better come along to make sure he didn't _mess anything up_. Looking at the state of Harry's living room, Ron thought that quite unlikely, but he couldn't deny that many things were easier when Hermione was involved, so he had let her come with him. He was glad of this decision now, as his wife marched him purposefully across the living room with her hand over his eyes so he wouldn't catch sight of the offending pants again.

"Where do you think the report will be?" Hermione asked once they were safely in the hall.

Ron took a brief look around the hall (and noted that Harry and Ginny _definitely _needed to change their ways and tidy up once in a while) before replying. "Er – I dunno, really …"

Hermione threw him a look that said she expected better of him.

"Let's try his study," she suggested, and clipped off down the hall, dragging Ron along by the hand.

The study was a tiny room, with a large oak desk shoved against the window and a battered old bookcase, overflowing with files, crammed into a corner. Though it was still early afternoon, snow had piled up against the window so that there wasn't much light at all; Hermione quickly pointed her wand at the lamps, throwing the (messy) contents of the room into relief.

"We'll never find it in here," Ron complained, edging over to the desk and examining the piles and piles of papers littered across it. A towering stack of Christmas cards stood in the middle, evidently waiting to be written, or else addressed; Ron picked up the top one, depicting a pair of bundled-up children towing a sledge across a snowy hill, and opened it. Inside, Harry had written _Dear Dudley, _and then clearly run out of steam.

"He really shouldn't be sending a magical card to his Muggle cousin," Hermione said disapprovingly, who had come over to see what had made Ron laugh and was now inspecting the card with pursed lips.

"Of course he shouldn't, that's what makes it funny," Ron sniggered. Hermione made a kind of _tsk_-ing noise and put the card back on the pile.

"We should try Summoning the report," she said, "it'll take ages to search through all of this. Whose arrest is it for?"

"Ah, come on, Hermione," Ron sighed, "you know I can't tell you that."

"I'm in Magical Law too!" Hermione protested hotly. "I have just as much right as you to know who is being arrested!"

"Oh, yeah, I'm not disputing that. I just can't tell you because I can't remember who it is."

Hermione looked dangerously close to smacking him; Ron hurriedly turned in the opposite direction under the pretence of looking at the bookcase.

"We could try doing _accio arrest report_, but I reckon there'll be loads in here," he continued. "So unless you want to get walloped in the face by a bunch of documents …"

He turned back to face his wife, whose expression told him she wouldn't mind seeing that happen to him.

"I, er – I think we should just search manually," he concluded meekly.

"Ron," said Hermione, in a voice he had come to associate with danger, "how are either of us supposed to find it if _we_ _don't know what we're looking for_?"

"An excellent question," Ron observed. "I very much admire your ability to get to the crux of the situation –"

"_Stop reading Twelve Fail Safe Ways to Charm bloody Witches and start paying attention to who you're bloody arresting!"_

"No need to shout," said Ron.

"I felt the need," Hermione growled.

They stood at an impasse, Ron smiling tentatively, Hermione glowering. After what seemed like hours, the latter straightened her shoulders and said haughtily, "_I _am going to look for any arrest reports. You can help, unless you have a better idea."

"I don't."

"I didn't think so," Hermione sniped. Ron dearly wanted to retaliate, but he thought it was probably better if he didn't, so he took a deep breath and started to search the contents of the bookcase.

It was hard, boring work, and yielded, after nearly an hour's searching, no results; both Ron and Hermione found several arrest reports, but none bore this year's date. Finally, Hermione sighed, stepped away from the desk and ran her hands through her hair, removing them with some difficulty.

"Right, I think we can say it isn't in here."

"His bag?" Ron suggested. "Or – or the pocket of his robes? He does sometimes just stuff things in there, I've seen him."

"He's going to be getting a serious lecture on organisation when I next speak to him," Hermione said grimly. "Let's check his room, then."

She positively dashed out of the study and up the winding staircase; Ron followed at a much slower pace, feeling extremely reluctant about entering the bedroom that his little sister shared with Harry. He had turned a blind eye to those occasions when Ginny had emerged from Harry's bedroom wearing his dressing gown during the time Ron and Hermione had lived here, preferring to assume that Harry had gallantly slept on the floor, but the fact that they now lived together was impossible to ignore: Ron knew exactly what kind of thing happened in that bedroom, and it made him feel nauseous.

Hermione, apparently, had no such qualms, and she barged into Harry and Ginny's bedroom with no hesitation at all. This room, at least, was moderately tidy: the bed was neatly made and the laundry basket in the corner was mercifully closed, revealing no unfortunate contents. An armchair by the wardrobe held a jumble of robes, some the bright green of Ginny's Harpies uniform, some an Auror's scarlet, and Harry's bag dangled from the wardrobe door.

Hermione made a beeline for the bag, leaving Ron to the robes on the chair. Hoping desperately that they were clean, and not simply waiting to go in the laundry basket, he shoved the ones that were obviously Ginny's aside and began to hunt through the pockets of Harry's Auror robes.

"This is horrible," he said fervently, sticking a hand into one pocket and coming up with a handful of cat treats and several pieces of disintegrating tissue. "I'll never forgive Harry for -"

He broke off; his fingers had just curled around a small, square _something_ in the depths of a pocket. Heart beating very fast, he pulled it out, confirming his suspicions: it was a box, covered in a soft velvety material.

"Merlin's pants," he breathed.

"Have you found it?" Hermione was at his side in a flash; he heard her gasp as she saw the box in his hand.

"Oh my goodness," she said faintly, and then, as Ron popped the box open, "Ron, don't!"

"Too late," he informed her dazedly, staring at the sparkly ring in stunned disbelief.

He couldn't have said what kind of ring it was, what kind of jewel it was, how many carrots, or whatever it was that women seemed to care about. All he knew was that it was definitely, undeniably, an engagement ring.

He heard a strange sort of choking noise and dragged his eyes from the ring; Hermione, to his utter confusion, was evidently trying not to cry.

"You already had one of these," he reminded her. True, it had been his grandmother's, and Harry had probably bought this one, but his grandmother had had the same birthstone as Hermione (sapphire) and Hermione had seemed to appreciate the sentiment. He thought that her ring was just a bit bigger than this one, too.

"I'm not _jealous_," Hermione snuffled, "it's just so lovely … after all Harry's been through … he's going to propose!"

_He was going to propose_. Harry, who had never even asked Ginny _out _as far as Ron knew (then again, he hadn't exactly asked Hermione out, either), was going to _propose_. To Ron's little sister! It was a good thing that Ron knew Harry was a very good bloke, and made Ginny very happy; otherwise, there would have been trouble.

"I wonder when he's going to do it?" Ron mused aloud. "I bet he doesn't do it as well as I did …"

"He's got a lot to live up to," Hermione said, smiling suddenly, and Ron wondered if she, too, was remembering how, on the eve of her final success for house-elf rights, Ron had cooked a meal – he was actually a better cook than she was – and then got down on one knee and pulled out the ring.

"Maybe I ought to give him some tips …"

"No! He'll have something planned – Ron, we mustn't interfere, he'll be so angry, we should just put the ring back and pretend we never found it –"

"Well, you could try doing that," said a deep voice from behind them, "but I don't know if you'd fool him."

Hermione shrieked; the box slipped from Ron's fingers and he lunged for it, grabbing it just before it hit the ground.

"I'll have that back, if you don't mind," said Harry, holding his hand out. Feeling extremely like a child caught in the act of stealing biscuits (or indeed, an adult caught just so) Ron handed over the box.

"Harry, we're really sorry, we didn't mean to –" Hermione began desperately, but Harry held up his other hand to stop her. His face was impassive.

"What the hell are you doing?" he asked; his quiet voice was much worse, Ron thought, than if he'd shouted. "Why are you here, and what are you doing going through my stuff?"

"We just came to get that bloke's arrest form!" Ron explained hurriedly. "I thought you'd taken it home with you and I needed it, and we looked in your study but it wasn't there so we thought we'd check your bag and your pockets …"

He trailed off as Harry's brow furrowed. You could tell, looking at Harry now, why he was one of the most respected Aurors (though killing Lord Voldemort might also have contributed to his reputation); Ron looked at his feet, feeling rather as if he had committed a terrible crime.

"It's on the bedside table," Harry said. "Didn't think to look there? I notice you also didn't realise that someone else was in the house, and sneaking up on you. Dear me, Ron …"

There was something in Harry's voice, a subtle change, that made Ron look up; to his great relief, he saw that a smile was playing around Harry's mouth. He glanced at Hermione, who was still wide-eyed.

"Harry, we really didn't mean to stick our noses in," she said tentatively. "Ron just found the box … it's a beautiful ring …"

Harry no longer looked scary, now; his face bore a familiar anxious expression. "Really?" he asked, running his fingers over the ring box. "You think Ginny'll like it?"

"Ginny will _love _it," Hermione assured him.

"Ginny will love what?" asked Ginny, and for the third time that day, Ron felt his heart stop as his sister appeared in the doorway, covered in mud and looking extremely windswept.

Harry swore very quietly under his breath and turned to face Ginny. "Birthday surprises," he lied calmly. "And don't sneak up on me!"

"You're the Auror. I expected to be in a full Body-Bind before I'd said a word," Ginny said, "and also, my birthday is August and it is December, so why don't you try another excuse, and, just another thing,small thing really, what is that in your hand?"

Harry looked down at his hand, holding the ring box, and then back to Ginny. Words seemed to fail him. Ron had never felt so sorry for his best mate; beside him, he could feel Hermione positively dying to help in some way, but he couldn't see any possible way out of this situation, and he felt horribly guilty … Harry's plans ruined, because of him …

"Harry?" Ginny prompted. "What is that? Because it looks an _awful _lot like a ring box to me, and Ron and Hermione are already engaged, unless of course Ron is being overly generous which doesn't _sound _like him, or perhaps you're proposing to Hermione, in which case I should tell you, Hermione, he leaves his wet towels on the floor –"

"Oh, screw it," Harry said loudly. "Ginny, will you marry me?"

Ginny looked at the ring he was proffering, apparently speechless – there was a first time for everything, Ron thought – and then beamed.

"Of course I will!"

"Awww," said Hermione in a wobbly voice, as Ginny launched herself into Harry's arms. Ron quickly averted his eyes, and found himself looking instead at his wife.

"I did it better," he murmured to her, and she smiled and slipped her hand into his, and they silently inched past the embracing couple and down the stairs.

(There is another story, the story of what Ron was faced with when he went back later that evening to retrieve the arrest report, but he would rather just forget all about that.)


End file.
